Something Remains: Daniel
by xxDark-Elfxx
Summary: Oneshot. Companion to Something Remains: Vala. Set not long after 'Beachhead'.


**Author's Note:** Set shortly after Beachhead.

**Something Remains**

**Daniel**

_My dreams were all my own;_

_I accounted for them to nobody;_

_They were my refuge when annoyed-_

_My dearest pleasure when free._

_-Mary Shelley_

_The cry of my body for completeness._

_That is a cry to you._

_-Mary Carolyn Davies_

She comes to him in dreams. Fleeting brushes of being against his consciousness. At first it was dismissible, a touch here, a glimpse there. A manifestation of one who had spent so much time in his presence bleeding into the half-made realms of sleep. But she does not fade. Unlike in reality, her occupation of his mind is unhindered here, uncomplicated by appearances and prideful self-morality. Here, he can not cite rules and regulations. Policies and cultural taboos. This world belongs to the _noctambule._ Nightwalkers in the oldest meaning of the word. And here, unfettered by harsh truths and harsher lies, he _dreams._

He dreams of places half-remembered. A hotel room in Cairo. An apartment in Paris. A villa on the coast of the Baltic Sea. Places he's lived or visited in his wandering youth. He often visits places like these. But now he finds she's here with him. Exploring the world through his memories, laughing over the wonders he views as mundane. He knows he should her ask questions. Where has she gone, what has she learned. What was it Jack said? He would question the devil himself. And yet, answers go ungiven as he simply absorbs being in a place he thought never to live in again.

Her promiscuous shifting of weight on his lap is a solid reminder that, even in his subconscious where she could be however he chose to will it, her mischievousness is unaltered, her wildness untamed. She runs her fingers gently down his nape to rub at the muscles just below the collar of his favorite shirt. One he would have thrown away were it not for the feeling of satisfaction she gets as she slips her hand through the jagged hole in the sleeve. Her fingers stroke, her nails scratching slightly, at skin that still tingles with the sense memory of the zat blast whenever she's near. He rests his hands on her hips, holding her to him, feeling how her body opens to his, the way knees fit over thighs and arms over shoulders to bring them in to perfect harmony, if only for a moment. Her scent surrounds him, subtle but strong, full of the tangy sweetness of dragon fruit and the delicate weight of a pear. His mouth finds soft skin over taut muscle at the base of her neck and the taste is like a promise fulfilled. Her hair is around them, shielding them from the sun and all the knowledge light can hold. She is refreshingly real this time. Warm and strong against him. There are other times when she is less substantial, times he spends the trip to this realm searching, scouring the streets for some trace of the fiery spirit of the woman he is slowly coming to count as family, friend, and faith. The feeling of loss slides over his soul and his touch turns desperate, arms forming bands of steel keeping her with him. She knows what the death grip is for and responds in kind. Amorous intentions are put aside for a minute, while they grasp at each other for the simple sake of staying here, in this place, together. He knows the things keeping them from each other in the world of waking, and they seem insurmountable. So much stronger then the fragile peace found in his lover's arms.

"You're thinking again, darling."

Her voice is warm whiskey, rolling over him to flow inside his body and numb, at least for a while, the pain he carries. He can't deny the truth, so he does the next best thing and captures her lips with his own.

The kiss is all he remembers from their first and yet so very much more. Feelings and messages of time spent in the others soul are present here. And the gentle current building between them all the while ignites in a blaze to shame the stars. Clothes seem to pull themselves off their bodies as the need for skin increases. Mouths find new areas to plunder, as hands map the rest. He doesn't recall moving to the bed but suddenly they're falling, falling to land on a cloud of blankets. He takes a second to look at her, sprawled beneath him, ebony hair fanned across the pillows. Her skin is flushed and lips swollen, silver irises darkened to dusky gray. He feels like stopping time just to stare at the sight before him, but once again she interprets his thoughts and she's having none of it. Locking her legs around his waist, she pulls him into her and rolls them over, a mimicry of their first meeting. Her hands run up his arms to entwine their fingers as she starts the age old rhythm. Like everything between them, it soon escalates to the shattering point.

She breaks first, crying out as she reaches oblivion. The sight of her, head thrown back, ecstasy written in her face, and the sound of his name on her lips combines with the sensation of her convulsing around him and he explodes in a rush so powerful he's sure it was felt the world over. Lights dancing in front of his eyes, he none the less guides her boneless body down to it's favorite resting place, her head on his chest, curled across and around him like she was made to fit. The steady beat of her heart is calming, grounding him back in this place of perfect unreality. But the sun is rising, beams piercing the curtains to land on the floor. He watches them burn a hole in the wood, watches the flames race over the room to lick at the edge of the bed. He tightens his hold on her body, feeling the tremors shaking both of them as the heat gets nearer. Her hand finds his face and he tears his eyes from the approaching terror to lock on hers.

"I'm trying to come home, Daniel. Don't give up on me." Her promise hits his heart like a bullet, which makes no sense because she took it with her through that damned blackhole. He can feel the fire eating at his body again, consuming them in it's unquenchable need for fuel. The fear of burning is dwarfed by the fear of losing yet another he loves as he makes a promise of his own.

"I'll find you, Vala. I swear."

As the light and heat overcome them, pulling them apart, casting him back to consciousness and her back to his dreams, he sees her mouth quirk up in that familiarly wicked grin. Her voice is soft, straining to be heard over the crackle of flames, but he hears what she says as they splinter apart and it leaves him with a smile.

"Not if I find you first."

Then he's yanked back, ripped out of happiness and rudely returned to life. He wakes up gasping, pulse pounding in his head like he'd been drinking. For a split instant, he can still feel her against him, feel her hand in his, her spirit entwined with his own. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and slides his glasses into place. He is content, for now, to protect this world of light and truths half-told. As long as he can still believe his own world is out there. Searching for him as well. The hope and the dream is enough. It has to be.

After all, his goddess would accept nothing less.


End file.
